Page 78 of The Preachers' Promise
I don’t deserve her.Broken. Damaged. Fucked up. Weird. The words go around in my head, like a carousel of self-hatred.
A stranger in white clothing rushes out of the building, pushing a wheelchair. For a split second, I’m back at the facility and the stranger is that man who hurt Ophelia. Then my brain flips back again, and I remind myself this is a different place. I don’t want to hurt the people who are trying to help me. Not that I’m in much of a state to hurt anyone. My entire face throbs, and my chest stabs me with shooting pains every time I breathe. Did those fuckers crack a rib? It wouldn’t surprise me.
The guys help me into the chair. I want to protest, feeling like an invalid, but I don’t have the energy. In some ways, it’s a relief to just be able to give in. I don’t want to keep fighting. It feels like I’ve been fighting my whole life, and now I only want peace.
The hospital staff wheels me inside. Ophelia sticks to my side the entire time, and I know Malachi and Cain are close. I sense the worry vibrating off them. I’m not going to die, I’m sure of it, but I might be a little bruised up for a while.
“We’re going to need a couple of x-rays,” one of the staff tells me. Then he turns to Ophelia. “You can wait outside.”
“No,” Ophelia replies. “I’m coming with him.”
“It’s not a good idea to expose yourself to an x-ray if you don’t need to.”
But she stands firm. “I’ll take the risk.”
“I really don’t think?—”
“I’m not leaving him.” She raises her voice. “It’s non-negotiable.”
If I wasn’t so injured, I’d give her a high five.
“Fine, but you need to wear a protective vest,” the man relents.
“That’s fine. I can do that.”
X-rays are taken, with Ophelia close by at all times, then I’m wheeled into a private room where a nurse cleans up my injuries and puts stitches in the wound near my temple. I’m given some painkillers, and the exhaustion and shock of what I’ve been through, combined with their narcotic effect, sends me falling into the waiting darkness.
When I wake, Ophelia, Cain, and Malachi are all in the room with me.
I feel more like my old self—even though one eye is swollen shut—but when I try to sit up, a fresh bolt of pain zings through my ribs. It’s joined by the horrific throbbing in my upper cheek. Jesus, it feels as if a truck hit me. I want to put my head through the wall behind me to stop the pain in my cheek, eye, and jaw. Christ, even my ear hurts.
“Fuck.” I grunt. “Are my ribs broken?” It’s hard to speak properly, as my face not only hurts but feels tingly and numb.
Ophelia steps closer to the bed. “Good to see you awake.”
“Are they broken?” I insist. All I can think about is how badly that kind of injury is going to incapacitate me. Broken ribs stop you from being able to move around for weeks.
But Malachi grins. “No, you’ve just sprained the muscles between your ribs.”
“Seriously? How the fuck does it hurt this much?”
He chuckles. “Think you just have a low pain threshold.”
I fall back against the pillows. “Asshole.”
Cain moves to the other side of the bed. “You have fractured your cheekbone, though. You got lucky, and the bone hasn’t been displaced, so you’re not going to need surgery. Don’t go getting hit in the face again any time soon, though, or that might change.”
Well, that explains the horrific pain, the tingling, and the reason I sound drunk when I talk.
“Damn, there go my weekend plans. Is it going to spoil my good looks?” I try to make light of the situation and play down the pain, mostly for Ophelia, as I don’t want to scare her.
Ophelia smiles at me. “Nah, I think it just makes you look more rugged.”
I place my fingers on the bandaged spot at my temple. “And the stitches?”
“That might leave a scar,” she says, “but it just means we’ll be matching.”
She touches her own scar, and I find myself smiling.
